Cat and Mouse
by Keyearna Rainheart
Summary: A brief look at Draco's life. This is a one shot and contains spoilers.


Draco stood before a floor length mirror, his father's robes pooling about his four year old form, his mother's wand in hand. He was swishing it about carelessly, and giggling. He turned from the mirror, and cried "Avada Kedavra!" Then laughed and squealed as a green spark snapped and fizzled. "Avada Kedavra" He cried again this time pointing it at a house plant. He squealed with delight as he watched the plant wither. He turned back to the mirror, sneering at his reflection, and then clapped before turning back to find one of the house elves there behind him.

"Crucio!" He cried and watched as the helpless creature squirmed and whimpered. "Stop being lazy and get me my slippers." He ordered with a giggle. The house elf disappeared with a pop. Just then he heard the steady, tired, footsteps he knew so well. Then the heavy wooden door opened, and Lucius Malfoy came in. He was pulling his hair free of its club, when Draco ran over, stumbling on the robes.

"Father, father, look." He said as Lucius smiled to see him. Draco stopped and looked up at his father, giggling with glee. "Look Father." He said as he pointed his mother's wand at another house plant. "Avada Kedavra!" He let loose a peal of laughter when the plant shriveled and died.

Lucius bent and picked up his son. "I'm so proud of you." He said softly hugging his son to his shoulder.

"I love you Father." Draco said as he buried his face in his father's throat.

Draco woke gasping, sitting up, clutching the bed sheets. He could never tell if what he dreamed was truth of fallacy. He slowly lifted his hand to his heart, feeling it beat swiftly.

"Draco?" The soft voice said, as he nudged Pansy out of his bed. "Are you alright?"

"Go back to your bed Pansy." He said in an even tone.

"But Draco, you said I could stay." She countered, a hurt note in her voice, as she bent to gather her clothes.

"I've changed my mind." He said staring into the medium.

"Well you can sleep alone this summer then." She said with a huff, as she slammed the heavy gilded door to Draco's room.

He shook his head, the girl would not stay mad at him, she never could. Not like his mother stayed angry with his father. She never said as much, but they never slept together, and he often heard them arguing.

He sighed and fell back against the pillows. He considered his dreams as he took a deep breath. He pressed his eyes closed, trying to get back to his dream. 'Only to prove if it was a dream or a memory.' He assured himself. 'I don't need his love.' He told himself as he drifted off again.

Draco's vision blurred slightly. "You will take the Dark Mark, before the end of this summer." Lucius was saying. "You will not embarrass me." Lucius pressed his hand harder to Draco's throat. Do you understand," with a sneer he added, "son?"

Draco nodded as he gasped futilely for breath. Lucius sneered again before letting his son slip bonelessly to the floor. Draco lay there for several moments trying to get his breath back. "You disgust me." His father said, before turning and leaving him there.

Draco rolled to his knees and stood. He rubbed his throat, breathing deeply. He would not disappoint his father. He would take the Dark Mark; he would serve The Dark Lord. He would do all that was expected of him. He could feel the dark eating him alive, gnawing at him. He knew that sooner or later, he would snap, and the dark would consume him, he just wondered how long it would take. Would he turn out like his aunt Bellatrix? Would he kill someone of his own line?

He leaned against the wall, his head pounded. He would not cry, he would never cry. His father would only sneer or laugh at his tears. Besides Draco had trained himself not to cry, and many long hours under his father's tutelage with the Cruciatus curse, had steeled him against tears.

He would do as he was told, even as fear clawed at his throat. He could do anything he was told, as long as he did not disappoint his father. He sighed. His anger was building, and he needed someone to take it out on.

He hoped Pansy had not gone home yet.

"Oh darling, let Mummy see." Narcissa said as Draco stood before her, his white blond hair falling over the wound. Narcissa leaned down, brushing the hair back as he turned his face. "You must let Mummy see." She said pulling him onto her lap. He held still while she brushed the hair away again. "Oh...How many times has Mummy told you not to play with her wand?" She asked in a soft gentle voice. She shook her head very lightly, and reached for the wand she had laid aside when Draco had come running to her. "You must not play with this again." She said as Draco nodded. She aimed her wand at the blistering wound on his left cheek. "Back-fired charms could kill you." She said then she spoke a soft healing charm, and laid her wand aside again.

"Mummy?" He asked when she frowned.

"All better." She said with a smile and held up a mirror. Draco touched where the wound had been, then nodded, slipping off of her lap. "Go play now, but stay away from your father's study."

Draco nodded once before leaving and moving down the hall and stairs, out of his mother's wing and into his father's.

There was a notable difference between his mother's wing of the house and his father's, the soft pink and mint and white, yielded to the heavy red and green and mahogany. The paintings changed from ladies and knights, to animals and men.

As he moved down the hall he was considering his newest challenge: how to overcome the whole world with only his toy wand. He could do it, he would do it, and by the end of the day. He would rule with an iron fist. At least until dinner, they were serving his favorite. Steak and kidney pie, he smiled. At six his worries revolved around control of his tiny sphere of influence and food.

As he moved down the hall, he heard voices coming from his father's drawing room. He moved closer, he had been told to stay away from his father's study, not his drawing room. He moved up to the heavy door, and peeked in. Someone had left it ajar.

"Why was I not informed of this sooner?" A creaky voice demanded.

"My Lord, we did not know of it sooner." Lucius voice cracked as he answered. Draco could not see Lucius, but he could hear him. "We have done what we can to deter the Muggle-borns from coming to Hogwarts. The Ministry is sniffing around again."

"Then handle it!" The creaky voice demanded.

"Yes my Lord." Lucius answered.

"I believe we have a listener at the door Lucius, why don't you go get your son, and bring him here."

Lucius moved toward the door, his face a mask of indifference. When he opened the door and saw Draco standing there, he shook his head once, pressed his fingers to him lips, then took Draco's tiny hand in his and lead him into the room.

"This is my son." Lucius said as Draco stood stock still at his father's side.

Draco only stared at the empty chair. There was nothing there. Nothing at all, yet it was speaking to his father. "And what a son he is. He will do well in my service I think."

"He will do very well in your service." Lucius said, looking down at his son.

"Do you have a name boy?" The nothingness asked in the same creaky voice.

Draco puffed out his chest a bit. "My name is Draco Phineas Abraxa Malfoy. Who are you?"

The nothingness seemed to laugh through his nose, then paused. "Perhaps I have misjudged. A boy with questions might do better in the service of Mudbloods."

Lucius placed a hand on his son's shoulder, squeezing hard. Draco looked up at his father, for the first time seeing disappointment there. "My son will do well in your service Lord Voldermort. He is young still, and the curiosity can be trained out of him. This I will see to myself."

"You had better." The voice said.

That night Lucius had Draco in his study. "You disappointed me, before the Dark Lord himself. Now you will be taught what disappointment feels like." With those fatal words Draco felt his future slipping away. A hot tear ran down his cheek. Lucius shook his head, and back handed his son. "You will never cry. Weakness." And with that word it was begun.

Draco looked about the room, all his tools were there. He could fix the mess Peeves had made of the Vanishing Cabinet. His father would finally be pleased with him. He hoped he would.

How long had he tried, and failed to please his father?

He shook his head and continued on with his work. He could get it finished and be ready for dinner. He would be able to sleep a whole night, for the first time in ages. Once the cabinet was finished he could complete the task given him by the Dark Lord.

As he worked on reattaching the door, his mind drifted. He was afraid. He was unsure. He was, in short, a disappointment to his father. Yet he continues to try, and continued to fail. Harry Potter and his band of merry followers always put unworkable kinks into his plans. He was not at fault. His father should be disappointed with Harry Potter, not with him.

He sighed as he thought. One day he would have his revenge on Harry Potter. One day he would see to it that Potter paid.

His father would not be pleased. He would be punished. He was always punished. At ten there was little he could do without the watchful eye of his father. He had broken the vase, and his mother would be upset. His father however, would be quiet, deliberate, and exacting. The vase was not the problem. His mother liked it, and would of course be sad at its lose, but it was not like Lucius couldn't just run out and pick a new one up. No it was the fact that Draco had 'messed up'.

Lucius often found fault with his son, critical and overbearing. That was how Draco saw him. He was violent at times, and the pain that did not leave scars on his skin, left them on his heart and mind. Draco swore that someday, if he had a son, he would love him. He would not treat his son as his father had treated him. He would care, as much as any busy father could. He would leave the raising to the mother, but he would not hurt his son intentionally, at least not over a broken vase.

He could hear his father in his study, and knew that soon, he would be called there, and his punishment would commence. What would it be? Draco considered. There was little left for Lucius to take away, little left for him to destroy. Draco's shoulders slumped as he heard his father call his name, the sound of it sour, as if Lucius had tasted something displeasing.

It would begin, and only end when Lucius saw fit. Draco steeled himself, and went into the Study. "There you are." Lucius sneered.

"Here I am Father." Draco answered.

A lash whipped out and caught Draco in the chest knocking him back. Draco gasped, rolling to his knees. "How dare you speak to me as such?" Lucius said an angry edge to the deadly calm.

Draco was quiet for a long time as Lucius studied him. "You disgust me." Lucius said softly.

"And I hate you." Draco replied. There was a short beat, and then everything went black.

Draco stood on the platform of 9 3/4. He could see Astoria was bored. She had never been good at saying good bye. Draco smiled at her obvious wish to cry. She would never show her son that she was going to miss him. She only wished he would have a good year at Hogwarts.

Scorpius smiled at Draco, hugging him. "Good bye Father." Scorpius said.

"Good bye son. Do well in your studies." His voice was indifferent, calm.

His son backed away, a look of hurt on his face. Draco never hugged his son, never touched him really. Scorpius smiled at his mother, and then moved to head for the train.

"Son." Draco called. Scorpius looked back. "I love you."


End file.
